


so come express it

by orphan_account



Series: say i'm the one you want [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hi," Harry greets, rocking back on his heels. He doesn't try to be inconspicuous about giving Louis a lookover, especially not with the current situation and how he literally called Louis over so that he could grope his ass. </p><p>Louis' mouth quirks up, sharp and sweet and dangerous for Harry's emotional well-being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so come express it

**Author's Note:**

> ecbm, oct 2013: this zourry sequel for nat is literally the only time i'll ever write one in my human life.  
> ecbm, every other time: why do people always ask me for sequels? since when have i ever written a sequel?
> 
> well, in case you haven't clued in by now, this is a sequel.

_Hi!_

_Who is this_

_Harry Styles_

_youre FUJKINGKL kidding me_  
_*fucking, sorry, autocorrect_

Harry can understand the disbelief, so he doesn’t bother fucking around, and snaps a selfie, beaming wide and thumbs-upping at the screen. He sends it.

_ohmy fuckionkfl god_  
_*FUCKING, I’M SORRY it’s autocorrect_  
_I can’t believe U saved my number_  
_Wait did u mean me? are u wrong numbering me? DO U think this is someone else?_

_I’m pretty sure I’m not wrong numbering you. Louis, Portland, right?  
Really nice mouth?_

_Oh wow this is unexpected_

_Maybe you should send me picture proof, too._

Louis sends him a very squinty selfie. Harry can’t tell if it’s because he’s still a little struck, or if he’s one of those people with poor selfie etiquette. Harry doesn’t really get how someone that attractive could have perilous selfie skills, so he lets his ego and logic choose struck.

“That’s really weak selfie game,” Liam says, peeking at the screen. Zayn hums in agreement. Harry hates being in sync with them, sometimes. 

“His lips are so thin,” Carol says with faux worry, throwing half her body on top of Harry to get closer to the phone. “Pobrecito, did they disappear when he sucked your dick?”

Harry groans and turns his phone down and away from their nosy eyes. “Get out of my hotel room, I’m trying to _sext_.”

“Can’t believe you just said sext out loud,” says Zayn. climbing over Harry’s legs and cutting off circulation in order to get off the bed. “This is the suave and super cool Billboard Rock #1 lead singer. People’s 7 for 25 Under 25. Tatted bad boy with his long hair and showy sheer.”

“ _The_ Harry Styles,” Carol croons, dodging the AC connector Harry throws at her. 

“Tall, dark, and oh so handsome,” Liam quips, slamming the door behind them and the middle fingers Harry throws their way. 

_Yeah, definitely not wrong numbering you._  
_Is it just me or did you get more attractive in the week and a half since you came untouched around my cock?_

_Harry styles Are youtrying to get into my pants?_

_Across state lines?_

_across state lines_

_Only if it’s working_

Look, Harry is aware his skills are rough. Back when they did that sort of thing, Carol used to mock him every single time he tried to rile her up over iMessage and laugh incessantly when he finally gave up and FaceTimed her. Talking and texting are two very different things. Being there and watching someone's reactions and feeling their toes curl around his back is significantly better than getting nudes and _imagining_ that he's eating them out or letting them fuck his face.

 _Hey_ , he texts Louis, _are you doing anything this weekend?_

///

Louis takes some time to reply, but thankfully, Harry is a very busy man who has better things to do than check his phone every five minutes during sound check.

"Stop looking at your fucking phone and get on track," Alia, their tour manager, snaps.

Harry grins sheepishly at her, locking his phone and putting it back in his back pocket. "Sorry, Alia."

"Maybe you should have Zayn hold it for you," she suggests. "Especially since you guys have that Vevo Lift in thirty."

Harry scrunches his face, loosening his hair tie from his wrist. "I legally cannot let Liam touch my phone. It's in our contract."

"I said Zayn, not Liam," she answers, arching an eyebrow.

Harry puts his hair up, flexing the band in half so it'll have better hold. "Let's be real here, Al." 

She rolls her eyes, but Harry can tell she wants to laugh, even as she walks away to do whatever it is that tour managers do. 

"I still can't believe that you asked someone to leave their city--their _state_ \--for a fuck. This puts booty calling on a whole new level," Zayn says once they've finished their _Mine_ cover. 

Harry knows he shouldn't say it. Harry knows that saying it is the worst decision he could make today. He bites the inside of his cheek and checks the strings on his guitar. "It's just--"

"It's like... I know what you're gonna say but I'm really hoping that you won't anyway," Carol says.

Harry makes a face at her. "No, you don't."

"So you weren't gonna say that his dick was just too bo--"

"It's really important that we go over _Part Two_ again," Harry interrupts. "We're on a schedule, guys. We can't give anything less than our best for every show. You know?"

Liam throws a stick at the back of his head.

///

He doesn't get a chance to check his phone again until after the Lift, when they have time to burn before the show. He's found a quiet spot near the back of this venue, sat on the floor against the wall and toying around on Twitter, when he gets the text.

Louis, it seems, has decided that sending Harry nudes at 6:45 PM MST is a cool and casual thing to do. He almost doesn’t believe what he’s seeing with the preview, but when he clicks for it to open, it’s definitely a photo from Louis, his hand wrapped around his dick, already hard and slicked up. Harry blinks.

 _Well, you sure get right to it_ , Harry sends him. 

_oh are we gna pretend u were texting me for anything else_

Before Harry has a chance to reply, he gets a _video_ \--Louis' recorded himself jacking off, hand tight and pace slow. Harry can't take his cock out fast enough, blind to the stupidity of this situation. This is way more public than where they'd fucked last time. 'HARRY STYLES of American rock band caught MASTURBATING in PUBLIC area' isn't really a headline he thinks his PR specialist would be okay with. 

_Fuck_

His cock's already fattened up, has been getting there since the first picture, since he saw and remembered how thick it is, imagined the stretch of getting his mouth on it. _God_. Once he's attracted to someone, he gets _really_ attracted to them, can go zero to a hundred disturbingly quick, fucking his dick into his hand, already wet with precome. 

Harry watches the video on repeat a few dozen times, brightness all the way up and eyes glued to his screen. 

Louis is so loud when he's getting off, Jesus Christ, even though it doesn't look like his grip should be doing all that much. Harry wants to gets him so loose and fuck him so slow and see if that does it for him. He hopes it does. He hopes he says yes to the transregional booty call.

Louis sends another video, no comment attached. It doesn't really need a comment. In that moment, as Louis comes with a hoarse curse, Harry's pretty sure he'd pay for an urgent five thousand dollar airplane ticket to get Louis from west coast wherever to Cheyenne in the next three minutes. Five minutes? Maybe ten would be more reasonable.

_OHBNUBV God lou_

_Autocorrect?_

///

"Did he agree?" Carol asks, pulling a strand of Harry's hair tightly. They're squished on the couch on the back of their tour bus, waiting for Harry's downloads of the past two weeks of Scandal to finish.

"Of course he agreed," he answers faux-haughtily, shaking his hair out in Carol's face, grinning at the deeply unimpressed look on her face. 

"Oh, eat me the fuck out--" she is again very much unimpressed and ignores Harry's waggling eyebrows and exaggerated licking of his lips--"you spent every second checking your phone. If he'd said no like any other rational person, you'd have moped for days."

"I was on my phone because I'm a very important person, Carol," he says slowly. Slower. She's right, but there's no fun in that. "Many, like, very important messages waiting for me. To see. Which is why I was checking my very important and very expensive phone a lot."

As if to mock him, his phone vibrates. His finger twitches on his lap, resisting the urge to pick it up and check who it is. Carol keeps switching her gaze between Harry's face and the phone resting flat down on Harry's thigh.

"Don't," Harry warns. 

"Don't what?" Carol asks, and then is lunging at Harry's lap for his phone. Harry's lost before the battle even begun; she fights dirty, even with knowing that Harry won't hit back, and Harry _knows_ he'll be seeing bruises from her pointy fucking elbows for the rest of the week.

"'First class is really fucking nice'," Carol reads dramatically, adopting a voice that sounds _nothing_ like Louis', jumping off the couch and just out of Harry's reach. "'I think the confused why someone wearing a tank top and shorts is doing on this flight, laugh out loud.' The confused why someone is doing? He needs a grammar handbook, H, might be more useful than a three hundred dollar first class ticket."

"I'm going to leak your credit card info to People," Harry hisses, following her around the tour bus in attempts to get his phone back. There has to be a dead end somewhere on this stupid bus. If she sees the videos--"I'm going to tell your mom the real reason we got detention for a month in junior year."

Carol pauses, a mild standoff as she glares at Harry over the mini fridge. "Louis, 12:31 AM. 'Almost landed. You better have enough lube and condoms because I have athlete stamina and you don't have a concert until tomorrow night.' Athlete stamina."

“I’m gonna tweet that I’m still in love with you,” Harry starts, watching the absolute horror come across her face. “And that you’re mean about it, and then our fanbase will turn against you and you’ll have to leave the band.”

Carol lowers the phone. “I hate that you’re nice to everyone else in the universe, because then I’m always a little shocked by your passive aggressiveness.” Harry smiles his most harmless smile. “But I think I’m gonna watch these _interesting_ vide—”

Harry starts throwing pillows at her.

///

They coordinated it so that, if all went as planned, they'd be driving past Salt Lake Airport about half an hour after Louis landed, giving ample time for him to check out and Harry to get chastised by his PR specialist. (Excerpt: "Did you have him sign an NDA?" "What? No, of course not." "Wow. Wow. That's amazing. Thanks. I'll call you in two days when your dick is splattered across EW.")

Coordination works out. 

"Holy shit," Louis says when he steps onto the tour bus, backpack slung over his shoulder. Steve closes the door behind him, saluting Harry before going upfront to talk about masculinity and beer or whatever it is bodyguards talk about with bus drivers. "Shit."

"Hi," Harry greets, rocking back on his heels. He doesn't try to be inconspicuous about giving Louis a lookover, especially not with the current situation and how he literally called Louis over so that he could grope his ass. 

Louis' mouth quirks up, sharp and sweet and dangerous for Harry's emotional well-being.

///

There's a rule against fucking strangers on the bus. Originally, it was just 'fucking on the bus', but Zayn unapologetically broke it so many times that the specification had to be added.

Again on specifications: it said fucking, not sex in general. Fucking requires some level of nudity, right?

Harry's pretty sure that dry humping, all the way in the back of the bus where the bunks are, curtain drawn and Louis grinding down frantically against his crotch, mouth licking against Harry’s, doesn’t break the rule. Embarrassing as it may be, they’re definitely still clothed. 

“Fuck,” Louis says against Harry’s lips, pulling on his hair and tilting Harry’s head for better access. “Fuck, Harry, God.”

“Want me to make you come?” Harry murmurs, scooting farther back on the couch for better leverage. Harry feels like if there was a porno of just this, Louis on his lap and kissing the fuck out of Harry, that it’d easily hit a million views. In an hour. 

“M’not sitting on your dick because I wanna talk philosophy,” Louis answers, biting Harry’s bottom lip. 

A large part of Harry, the part separate from his dick’s interests, wants to pull a confused face and say _really? Huh, I thought that was why everyone did it_ , but then Louis squirms, trying to get closer and probably wishing they were both naked as much as Harry does, and--he doesn’t know why he thought any part of his body could be separated from his dick when Louis is on top of him. Rookie mistake. 

He moves his mouth across the stubbled line of Louis’ jaw, loving the scratch against his face and licking at the skin, at the soft spot below his ear. He doesn’t taste all that great right now, the concentrated smell of recycled air and smoke, but Harry doesn’t even care. He could stay like this all day. “You’re the prettiest thing I think I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Harry feels Louis’ mouth curve up where it’s open and panting against Harry’s clavicle. “Handsome.”

“Handsome,” Harry agrees, sliding his hands down Louis’ back. He slides the tips of his fingers down Louis’ basketball shorts and boxers, digging his nails in a little at the top curve of his ass. “Rugged, even. Best looking manly man this side of the real man’s West.”

Louis laughs, “you’re so dumb,” but his movements speed up, one hand pressing in bruises on an exposed sliver of Harry’s hip, the other gripping his shoulder. “Can’t believe I’m gonna come from this like I’m fifteen.”

Harry slips his hands further down. He has a nice hold on Louis’ ass like this, firm like an athlete’s but soft enough to wrench a moan from Louis’ mouth when he squeezes, pulling him in even though they’re already completely smashed against each other. “Been waiting to get my hands back on you since the second we stopped that night. Wanna get you spread out and properly naked this time, have you whining and begging just for another finger.”

“Not gonna beg just for that,” Louis says, biting down on Harry’s skin, as if he didn’t already last time. 

“Pretty sure you’re gonna beg,” Harry responds, kneading the skin and rutting up so Louis can get better friction. He wouldn’t mind getting off too, and this is getting him there, but he’s in the backburner right now; he wants to make sure Louis comes first and foremost. “Get you worked up over it, get you wet.”

“Wet where?” Louis asks, voice rough. He pulls his head back, licking his lips and meeting Harry’s eyes. They’re puffy and bitten, and Harry internally frowns a little at the realization that he’s been quieting himself. Propriety might be him not wanting to be heard by everyone else on the bus, but Harry got two hours of sleep last Thursday because of Liam’s annoyingly loud and graphic dirty talk. They’ll live. 

Louis’ working himself harder down, face flushed and eyes bright. Less coordinated now. Close, really close, and Harry wants to get him there. “Your cock, baby. Might eat you out a bit, if you want. Lick you all over your hole, work my tongue in there--" Louis comes. 

Harry doesn't know Louis too well, but he’s sure that he’d be offended if he said this aloud, even though it’s completely true: he’s _adorable_ when he comes. He makes this _face_ , and then his head falls back onto Harry’s collarbone, mouthing at the skin there and letting out the sweetest sounds. 

“That’s the second time you’ve made me come in my pants in two weeks,” Louis mumbles when he comes to. “This has got to stop.”

Harry pouts. “It’s such good fun, though. We could try to set a record.”

Louis laughs, breathless. “God, you’re so weird. Can’t believe I accepted your random booty call.”

“Yes, you can,” Harry says. “Don’t lie.” 

About the rule… Is it still broken if it’s just a handjob? Probably. He doesn’t care.

///

The four of them have shared rooms before, whether it's Zayn and Liam's usual thing, or Harry and Carol bunking and brainstorming song lyrics while she teaches Harry to braid her hair or paint her nails, or writing with Liam too, only considerably shorter hair and less polish. Sometimes Zayn and Carol will demand a room together, claiming that they need to "get away from the concentrated whiteness" of certain other band members.

Pulling isn't usually a factor, since two are very monogamous and Carol is demisexual ("Like the girl?" Liam asked the first time, pulling a face of confusion. "You're only attracted to her?" Zayn laughed so hard he almost popped a vessel and ended up clutching his stomach on the floor, and they still like to mock Liam for it), and Harry fucks a lot less often than anyone expects him to, but last night, when Alia called ahead for the rooms--he made sure they got three, and that one was further down the hall. He doesn't need the three of them commenting on his skill after. 

He also doesn't need Louis thinking he has to do what he did on the bus and silence himself. Harry doesn't quite want to make him scream, since that'd be rude to the other guests, but. Maybe something a little close. A silent scream. A whine. A little sobbing. 

"If you don't hurry up and get a finger in me, Liam's gonna be my favorite in the band," Louis says, pulling on Harry's hair a little too rough to be nice. Harry thinks it's nice anyway. He also doesn’t comment that Louis is demanding another finger before he’s even gotten one, since he’s pretty sure Louis could be petty enough to keep him to getting to put anything anywhere. 

"It was so cute when you were still starstruck and gagging for my cock," Harry says wistfully, licking down Louis' sternum and working on sucking a mark onto his chest. He means to add something else, something dumb and silly to get Louis to relax more into it, but when he moves his mouth two inches to the right, over the tight pebble of Louis' nipple, he whimpers and tightens the hand he's had casually resting in Harry's hair. 

He pulls his head up to get a read on Louis' face. His eyes are shut tight, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Sensitive nipples, baby?" 

"You probably do, too," Louis answers defensively. "Almost always showing."

"M'in a band with three sadists, Louis. Wouldn't be that smart to have them showing if the mildest touch could get me hard." He takes Louis' left nipple in between his teeth, rolling them and biting down very, very softly. He keeps his gaze on Louis, watching for his reaction.

"Liam's definitely my favorite member now," Louis answers, throwing his forearm over his face.

Harry leans up quickly to press a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth, and then moves back down to his nipple, biting and licking and sucking on it until his jaw starts to hurt and Louis is arching into it with broken-off sounds, tugging Harry’s curls so hard his scalp prickles. 

“Okay, stop, stop, stop,” Louis pants. Harry lets himself be pulled up, satisfied by the splotchy bruise around his pec. Harry's lips are already sensitive, from all the kissing they've done since Louis got here and all the time he's spent working weeklong reminders onto his skin. Pain has never really deterred him, though, so when Louis moves him in, he easily goes. 

He reaches his arm out to grab the lube he nicked from Liam's suitcase when he wasn't looking, bottle almost empty. Slicking three fingers is easy enough, even while making out with Louis and sending a quick prayer to God that he’s not indirectly making contact with Zayn’s ass. 

Louis bites down on his lips in surprise when Harry slides his index in as easy as breathing, hips bucking up and cock smearing precome across Harry's torso. “Jesus Christ, thanks for the warning.”

Harry rubs the thumb of his free hand over his mouth, wetting it for the natural antiseptic of saliva. “That actually really hurt.”

“Poor baby,” Louis says mockingly, raising his knee higher up his abdomen. They both stripped down early on, but Harry has spent an appalling lack of time focusing on Louis' cock. It's a gorgeous cock, and he wants to get it down his throat sometime very soon, but he's going to make it come from his first. "Add another finger. Harry, add another finger."

"You're so bossy," Harry tells him. He runs his left hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. Liam thinks he needs a trim, but Liam also thought he looked good with a buzzcut for a year, so Harry doesn't take hair advice from him. 

"Haven't made me not want to be," Louis says, wriggling his hips down. Harry kind of wants to propose to him, if only to get his body on lock. 

Harry tilts his head down on Louis' chest, right on the sprawling script at the top. He has a lot of tattoos for a nineteen-year old, but Harry started when he was seventeen and now has a giant fucking butterfly on his chest, so. All semantics. 

He waits until Louis takes in a big inhale, and then he shoves two more fingers in at once, right up to the warm gleam of his rings. Louis lets out this low growl--a _growl_ , he's so cute--squirming down on them. 

"How about now?" Harry asks, nipping down on his skin.

"Thinking about it," Louis says, voice straining. 

Harry bites down a smile, and flexes his fingers, testing the hold. Christ, he's so tight, pulsating and slick from the lube. Harry can't wait to get his cock in there. 

When he glances up from under his eyelashes and the curtain of his hair, Louis' eyes are shut tight and his throat is working with swallowed groans. He's so genuinely gorgeous. Authentic. 

Harry fucks his fingers in steady and hard, his rings making a very dull thud against Louis' wet skin. When he fixes his gaze, he can't see everything in surround detail, but what he can see is enough to make his gut tighten, already desperate and needy for it just from fingering Louis.

"Harry," Louis slurs, squeezing around the digits when Harry adds the tip of a fourth and rubs the rough pad of his index over his prostate. "C'mon, I--"

"Yeah," Harry agrees, carefully pulling out his fingers. He rises up on his knees, using that same hand to wet his long since latexed cock. 

One hand wrapped around Louis’ inner thigh to keep him spread, Harry lines the head of his dick up with Louis’ hole, keeping an eye on Louis’ face as he presses in. He means to go in slow, give him time to adjust around it, but Louis keeps moving and Harry evidently used too much lubricant, because in one sudden and smooth slide, he’s balls deep inside Louis. 

“Fuck, oh my God, fuck,” Harry moans, digging his knees into the mattress. 

Louis kicks the heels of his foot against Harry’s side, and even though Harry finds some offense at being treated like a horse, he does start to move. 

Harry knows he’s good at sex, and he knows he has decent stamina, but as he fucks into Louis with steady thrusts, going deep every time, he can’t help but feel like he’s going to come too quick. He’s been hard for the better part of too long, and although he definitely doesn’t mind having waylaid himself to focus on Louis’ pleasure, he doesn’t think he can hold back now that he finally gets to get his. 

“C’mere,” Louis murmurs, “kiss me.”

In rearranging himself to lie down on top of Louis, Harry accidentally does something right, judging by the way Louis groans and squeezes around Harry’s cock. 

“Got it?” Harry asks, his mouth against the corner of Louis’. 

“Got it,” Louis repeats dazedly, tilting his face so they’re kissing full on. 

Harry shoves in deeper, holding Louis’ knee high up. “Still got it?”

Louis nods, mouth open against Harry’s and panting. He pushes Harry’s hair to the side where it’s been curtaining both their faces and holds it there. “Think I’m gonna--”

“God, please,” Harry breathes, completely covering Louis’ body with his own so that his cock can get better friction against the lines of Harry’s torso. 

Harry grinds in, in, in, as far as he can with every push forward, never properly pulling out. 

“Are you,” Louis swallows, scratching his nails across Harry’s scalp, “d’ya have a condom on?”

“Yeah,” Harry assures him, a little perplexed at his only just now asking. “Since the start.”

He fingers contract in Harry’s hair. “Think I might’ve let you even if you didn’t,” he says, voice heavy and slow. 

Harry imagines that, getting to feel just how hot and smooth Louis is on the inside, getting him even wetter as he fucks out his orgasm into him, watching it drip down his thighs once he’s pulled out--Harry whimpers against Louis cheek and comes so hard he thinks he could cry with it, fucking fast and selfish into the stupid condom. He feels like he’s one more orgasm away from mindlessly telling Louis he loves him. 

It takes a few for Harry to regain control of his limbs and muster up the energy to stop inadvertently suffocating the person under him with his dead weight. When he finally does, it’s to snake down and lazily take Louis’ nipple back into his mouth, right hand twisting the other and left hand pressing under the head of his cock. Naturally, it doesn’t take him very long to come as well.

///

“Guys, I have a question,” Harry says two mornings later, on their way to Houston. They’ve just stopped at a mom-and-pop in Middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, and now are sat on Harry’s favorite sofa in the back, sorting their snacks and trying to figure out what belongs to who. They don’t have to figure out Harry’s stuff, apparently, since every piece of fruit and bag that has “low” anywhere on the package immediately gets thrown in his face.

“Don’t talk, you’ll throw us off,” Carol says, eyeballing the pack of Mini Oreos on top of Zayn’s thigh with suspicion. 

Harry stays silent for all of half a second before continuing, “Louis has spring break coming up. Coincidentally, he also tells me that he’s been thinking of roadtripping to see his favorite band a few more times before their tour ends.”

Zayn looks up from the Toblerone he’s been studying--Harry’s pretty sure those are actually his; he has to have some cheats somewhere--to stare in disbelief. Harry smiles at him. “You’re not actually asking to tag a groupie along.”

“Groupie has a negative connotation I’m not sure I appreciate,” Harry says. 

“He cannot possibly be _that_ good of a fuck,” Liam tells him.

Harry squints. “No one asked you, Liam.”

“ _You_ asked me,” he rebutts. 

“That was before you were being mean, and now I’m only asking Carol and Zayn.” Liam bares his teeth. 

“As long as you two don’t ever fuck in front of me or on this bus, I don’t care,” Zayn says, curling a hand around Liam’s knee. 

Harry crosses his toes in his socks. “When have _I_ , of all people, ever had sex on this bus, Zayn? Come on. Give me some credit.”

**Author's Note:**

> also, i don't see me not writing zayn into my fic, so if that bothers you then... okay. thank you to s for her help. i'm on [tumblr](http://dylobrien.tumblr.com), usually ♥


End file.
